


Unfettered

by HauntedByDayDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel is Not Oblivious, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, Fluff, Geez, How many seasons of buildup?, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, I mean really, Just tell each other already, Lonely Castiel, M/M, Sam Ships It, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, and still, with the "you're my brother" crap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntedByDayDreams/pseuds/HauntedByDayDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after 11x03 "The Bad Seed." Dean and Sam take Castiel back to the bunker, and Dean isn't letting Castiel out of his sight this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfettered

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! :D

They stumble out of the warehouse, Sam's left and Dean's right arms heavily supporting Castiel around his shoulders. The angel's eyes are closed, his breath coming in short, laboured pants; when Sam has to let go of him to open the door, Cas all but collapses into Dean's side with a muffled groan. 

Dean's eyes are steely and impenetrable. The bloodied lip, black eye, all of it remains although Castiel had already asked him- pleaded with him, in fact- for Dean to let himself be healed. Dean waived his concerns by pointing out Castiel's own condition, and Castiel, too exhausted to even stand by himself without severe tremors, couldn't argue. Dean clings to Castiel almost as much as the seraph clings to him, Sam notices, as though he's afraid the angel will slip through his hands and right through the floor. The arm that isn't around Cas's back is pulling the angel's arm around himself, their fingers knotted tightly together.

Sam finds it hard to look at Cas, even now, so he focuses instead on the sidewalk baking in the sun as they take synchronised steps forward hefting the angel towards the Impala parked on the opposite side of the street. Sam knows it's his fault, all of it; if not for him pulling Castiel into his desperate plans, his friend wouldn't have been cursed, tortured, God knows what else. Because of the Winchesters, Cas had fallen, become human, been killed, been homeless. Sam supposes Castiel has his reasons for staying with them regardless; well, he knows his reasons. It doesn't make him feel any less guilty. Maybe even more so, in fact.

Castiel's head swivels limply so that he can glance up at Sam with bloodshot eyes; Sam pretends not to notice that he's under scrutiny. The hunter knows that Cas can read thoughts, but their friend has made it a point that their personal head-space remain private. Still, sometimes he finds himself unnerved by that blue stare, knowing that on a whim or a fancy it can bore into his mind and read him like a book. He wonders that if Cas were to, that maybe he would finally realise the brothers weren't worth saving.

Well, Sam maybe. Sam knew Castiel would never lose faith in Dean, even when _Dean_ loses faith in Dean. Stubborn like a true Winchester.

They reach the Impala and deposit Cas against the side. Dean fishes in his pocket for a moment and pulls out the keys; Sam stares at him blankly as Dean extends them towards him.

"What- oh, okay." Sam takes the keys, still surprised, and watches as Dean helps Cas into the backseat. Then Dean slides in after him. Sam blinks, blinks again, and stares at his brother.

"What?" Dean asks, his brow drawn low in a frown, as he leans out of the car to pull the door closed.

"Nothing, I just- I can't remember the last time you rode in the back," responds Sam as he opens the driver's side door and climbs in. He glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dean adjusting an unprotesting Castiel against his side, stretching his body across the seat and holding his head in his lap. Castiel's eyes flutter closed as Dean cards his fingers through his unruly dark hair and tugs the lapels of his coat together over his chest. 

Dean's expression is soft, unguarded in a way that Sam has seen all too rarely; Dean looks at Castiel with the same reverence and tenderness reserved for family, for Sam and Bobby and Charlie, but there is something else there, too. The same something that hollowed Dean's face when Castiel showed up at the bunker, bloodied and nearly unconscious; the something that made Dean's smile brighter than starlight when had come to, smiling weakly and whispering, _"Dean..."_ even though Sam was there, too; the something that shone, unfettered, every time Dean and Cas shared a glance they didn't know Sam could see.

A startling green stare meets Sam's in the mirror and Sam quickly averts his eyes, foot on the gas and fingers turning the key in the ignition.

***

"Your room needs some sprucing up," Dean says after depositing Castiel's coats on the desk and settling back onto the edge of the bed. Castiel pushes himself up on the mattress so that he rests against the wall and Dean moves closer as if by some unspoken command.

" _My_ room..?" Castiel mumbles. "I've never had something that was really mine before. I suppose, my name. And my grace. I don't think those things count."

Dean's heart throbs as he quickly looks away so Cas doesn't see the burdened wilt of his brows. "Well, now you have this room. And you've always had a spot in the Impala. And with Sammy and me."

"That's true," Castiel whispers, whether from being out of breath or for some other reason Dean doesn't know, but his voice holds such weight and gratitude that Dean turns to look at him. Cas's eyes in that moment are purer than the bluest skies on a cloudless day; Dean feels breathless, like he's been sucked into the vacuum of space with only Castiel's eyes tethering him to earth. Eyes that hold galaxies and eons and power beyond understanding.

"I missed you, Dean," says Castiel quietly, solemnly, and it's exactly like Castiel to say something so casual in such a non-casual way. Dean knows that he's talking about more than his physical absence alone; Dean hasn't been himself for a long time.

"I know. I missed you, too." This makes Castiel look away, his lips pursing into the barest hint of a frown for a moment. Dean wonders what he said wrong, but knows better than to press it. Castiel still struggles to understand his recently acquired potent emotions, and he often gets frustrated trying to understand or explain them. "I'll leave you to rest up," Dean says, his hand lingering on Castiel's thigh for longer than maybe it should have before he turns to go.

"Wait." Castiel is leaning forward on the bed, his hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean leans into the touch as he turns around. "I'd rather... You be here, than not." His face is a motley of thinly-veiled emotions, and the corners of his lips are turned upwards in a sheepish smile. It's very unlike Cas, but Dean understands. 

Castiel doesn't have to be alone anymore, if he doesn't want to be.

In a time not long ago, Dean might have found a polite way to refuse, to avoid an awkward encounter or confusion or maybe even because he cared too much about labels. Now Dean pulls himself backwards further onto the bed without a second thought, hoisting himself up beside the angel who settles down again with a genuine, warm smile. Dean thinks to himself that it's the most beautiful thing he's seen in a long time.

***

To Castiel, Dean is the warm kiss of the sun on a frigid winter morning; the air between his feathers as he glides above the gardens of Heaven; surreptitious smiles and the all-but "I love you"s and the smell of leather, and gasoline, and greasy diner food.

Dean is green like the fresh grass in springtime, his soul all packed away behind those eyes; the soul that Castiel held, that Castiel stitched back together shred by shred, the soul that Castiel grew to care for and eventually to love. Dean is imperfect, and Dean is scarred and broken, but even so, if Castiel thought that Dean didn't deserve better... Well, that's not even worth thinking about. This is enough. It has to be.

For the moment, Cas lets himself forget about Amara, about the Darkness, about Rowena and the impending doom of the world. He's been angry and hated himself for so long, but right now he allows himself be happy with Dean for as long as he can.

After all, the world was about to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated, have a nice day!


End file.
